


Ask the Stars

by Ailisea, NatMatryoshka



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Car Sex, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Jyn lived alone, Jynnic Fandom Challenge, Oral Sex, Some Sex, and some fluff too, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailisea/pseuds/Ailisea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatMatryoshka/pseuds/NatMatryoshka
Summary: "They were two strangers in the parking lot of a bar in the middle of nowhere, facing each other, waiting for a sign of gratitude or a rejection that might have changed lives."Jyn Erso has always travelled alone, searching for herself. Orson Krennic did the same for a long time.Can two similar souls meet and build something new, together?[written for Jynnic Fandom Challenge, prompt #33: Roadtrip!AU]





	

“So, you’re the adventurous type. And you don’t mind travelling alone.”

The girl smiled. At another time, that comment would have made her eyes roll – she was used to be considered bizarre, a woman as slender as a little girl and dressed like a man, who wandered around hitchhiking – even though, oddly enough, she was beginning to appreciate her conversationalist’s company. The grizzled man was stealing a glance at her, he preferred dedicating his attention to the glass in his hand that had been full of cold water just a few minutes before: if anything, he was discreet. And discretion was a quality Jyn appreciated, especially in her occasional drinking partners.

It was her turn to ask something.

“Does it sound weird? The fact that a woman loves to travel alone, I mean?”

The small fold suddenly appeared on the man’s lips made her realize that, somehow, he was expecting that question. He took another sip from the glass, while the noise in the room was slowly turning to a background music. “ _Weird_ is an outdated concept. I’d rather say curious… yes, curious is the right word. But every choice hides its motive.”

He didn’t bat an eye in front of her huge backpack, not even at the sight of her too wide jacket that covered her shoulders, making her seem smaller than she already was. Actually, he didn’t even try to start some casual conversation at all costs, forcing her out of her daydreams: their talk had started spontaneously, by chance, while they were both sitting at the counter of the first bar she’d met for miles. She had asked the last driver she hitched a ride from to stop there, lifted her backpack, fixed her blouse and then entered the club, eager to drink something and to have ground under her feet, after three hours of uninterrupted travel… maybe she could have even found a shower at the next service station, with a little luck. She ordered some fruit juice, questioning whether to add a beer or not right after, and without realizing it she started humming the song from the music video that was being broadcasted on the screen above her head, an old cathode-ray tube model that must have greeted and said goodbye to so many passersby one could lose count of. She was lost in her world, the fatigue and what she left behind didn’t matter anymore, there were only the girl and that song, her backpack full of her stuff, the road awaiting in front of her, the unknown factor of where she was going to spend the night. It had been following her for ten years, that world of solitude and personal colors, but it didn’t weigh on her.

That was the moment the man had talked to her for the first time: he had heard her sing, then lifted his eyes from the screen. “I’ve been at their very last concert… too bad they’ve disbanded now.” 

A random conversation, a simple careless sentence that made her come back to the present. Thar band was one of her favorites, one of their albums had accompanied her throughout the first part of that messed up journey. Her eyes got all wide and she turned around to identify the origin of that phrase, meeting the azure glance of a man in his forties, grizzled hair, wearing a worn out brown leather jacket and a pristine white t-shirt, so white it almost caught all the light in the club to shine on its bearer. A small smile had welcomed her, controlled, but somehow polite. Warm.

“Yeah.” She couldn’t think of any other answer, as she was never too versed in conversation. She just took take another sip of juice, cleaning her lips with a cocktail napkin right after. “Listening to them gets me all nostalgic… but luckily we have CDs.”

The man didn’t answer: he had only slightly curved his lips, maybe without even thinking, and ordered a bottle of mineral water. Their conversation apparently stopped at that point, but the silence that fell over them wasn’t unpleasant or tense, like those silences when you desperately try to find something to say just so the other person doesn’t want to leave. Both of them were focusing their attention on their thoughts, cherishing the words they had exchanged, while people kept coming and leaving from that place, and the music kept flowing, always different. Jyn was thinking of her father, who didn’t look for her and God knew where the hell he was at that time, under which stars he worked and slept. She left because she didn’t feel herself any longer and needed to walk and think things through for as long as she could. Everyone says that the right journey can change your whole existence, the most important thing is finding the right time: why not taking a shot, then? And that’s what she did. She packed the few things she owned inside a bag, put the years old jacket on and went out of the place she called “home” out of habit, without even knowing if she would have come back or not. The roads looked all the same, but there was always something new to learn. She slept in the cheapest motels she ran into, hitchhiked, sometimes travelled by public transports, without a precise destination to reach. She liked to walk and didn’t mind being alone, and that was more than fine. The thought of Galen Erso, though, sometimes kept popping out just like an unresolved issue and weighed down the light of days that, otherwise, would be full of ever-new shades. She would have gotten used to it, someday. Maybe.

The grizzled man had already drank a couple of glasses of water and looked absorbed in contemplating his glass, lost in who knows what thoughts. Come to think of it at a later time, Jyn couldn’t tell why he even spoke to her: perhaps he just wanted to have some random chat with a stranger, without any particular interest, or maybe there was something in the sound of her voice that caught his ear enough to want to listen to it once more. The words came out as a whisper, but that was enough for him to hear.

“Have you been travelling for a long time?”

It didn’t make sense. That man didn’t have a suitcase or a backpack. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, maybe he just got off work and was there for a drink. What led her to certainty that he was traveler? Yet he didn’t seem unhappy of that question, otherwise: he turned to her, embracing her small figure with his cerulean eyes, fully looking at her, like if he had seen her for the first time.

“Let’s say I haven’t been seeing home for long enough to consider this a long journey. I don’t set any rule when it comes to move… and I think I’m not the only one here.”

He looked at her with another smile, like an invitation this time. But an invitation for what? She didn’t usually trust the first stranger that was kind to her, but the grizzled man was leaving a good sensation on her, pleasant enough to make her slowly sip her juice, almost hoping time would stop so they could continue with their chatting. She started to understand the rhythm of that alternation of cautious phrases and comfortable silences, until their heads came closer again and he offered a new topic to converse on, something to share: a glass of water, that time. He asked if she wanted to finish the bottle and she accepted, confessing she’d been dead thirsty through all the afternoon, since her helper was hurrying to get to the next city and so they didn’t stop a single time. Their conversation immediately spaced to travel topics and troubles on the road, the service stations increasingly more and more rare, the water… the bar was getting emptier, while the night went on, and the grizzled man became less of a stranger and always more of an acquaintance.

“Orson Krennic” he lent her a hand, thin fingers wearing no ring. Jyn shook it, wondering what he was hiding inside, what monsters and wonders dwell in his heart and existence. “Jyn Erso. Just Jyn, my family doesn’t mean anything here.”

There was a time and place where the name _Erso_ would have made everyone’s eyes widened and eyebrows raised, but apparently her father’s reputation didn’t go as far as that God forsaken place. Orson Krennic shook her hand with both energy and delicacy at the same time, then immediately let her go, free to draw the barman’s attention and order a beer while he already asked for a whiskey on the rocks and was drinking it in small sips, listening to what she’s saying. Little talks carefully chosen, no personal information disclosed carelessly, just the stories of a girl who challenged the world by wandering around on her own, happy to finally be in full accordance with her true self. He just nodded and kept drinking, sometimes adding something of his own or letting himself go with a smile or a good laugh, until silence falls again on them and the hour got so late the owner had to try and make them kindly understand that the closing time for the day has come.

They found themselves together outside, alone, the cars whizzing at great speed within a long range from each other. Jyn sighed: she probably had to camp somewhere near the gas station, finding a ride or a bus that late at night it was almost impossible and the bar didn’t rent any room. There was only an old silver car in the parking lot, an elegant yet retro model that must have belonged to Krennic. She was waiting for the man to take his leave with a wave of his hand, disappearing from her sight to enter that roam of fantasies and fragmented memories where all the people you met just once in your lifetime belong… but she’d never expected him to come closer and point at his car. He was serious, almost hesitant.

“I appear to be the only driver left, for tonight.”

It was not a question, so the girl didn’t answer. She looked at him without adding anything, waiting for his next move, her thick eyelashes batting for the surprise. She knew what he was about to ask, but a strange shyness was preventing her from foresee the man’s move.

“I’d be willing to take you wherever you want, if it pleases you. After all we’re both travelers, yes?”

“You’re willing to take me wherever I want?”

She made a run for it: it was worth at least a try. For him she would have made an exception to her _“no help, no bond on the road_ ” rule. But what if their encounter had a deep meaning? If life had put them on each other’s path for a reason she doesn’t realize yet? It would have been interesting to find out.

They were two strangers in the parking lot of a bar in the middle of nowhere, facing each other, waiting for a sign of gratitude or a rejection that might have changed their lives. No one was keeping her from leaving him there and walk away on foot, running away without a trace, laughing in his face… or just accepting his offer. Getting carried away by that feeling, by the same instinct that had opened the front door of her house.

“I am, or we can choose a random destination and let us go with the flow. The choice is yours.”

His blue eyes shone under the low light from the street lamp, and they were so beautiful she couldn’t move her eyes elsewhere while he’s talking. She lifted her head, nodding and hoping that small signal was enough to make him understand that she was accepting his offer, that she was putting herself in his hands without thinking of anything else but the journey and the lampposts that were overlooking the sides of the street, their keepers for the night. To the scent of the wind that slipped in from the car windows, brushing the hair away from her face, to the season running so fast you couldn’t keep up to their pace, no matter how much you tried.

“Every road is the same when you want to see them all. And I like to travel.”

He walked towards the car without a word, meaning he understood, and opens the door with a touch of chivalry she hadn’t seen in a long time, waiting for her to sit on the front seat and put her belongings down on the back one. It was a nice car, old yet still powerful and comfortable, and despite all the pieces of paper and maps crowding the open dashboard and the lower part of the right door, it was somehow organized, full of the charm unique to the seasoned cars. Jyn stretched her legs and leant her head back , closing her eyes for a moment and enjoying the peace of that instant when nothing has started yet, along with the stars protecting her like a blanket on her head and the crickets singing softly from afar. She huddled up in her jacket, waiting for the key to turn in the ignition.

Orson took the seat next to her short after. He closed the car door, fastened his seatbelt ready to start the engine, but instead stopped for a moment as he still had something to do, waiting for the right moment to do it. He looked at her face once more, mutely holding her stare until he gave voice to the thought he’s been keeping silent for a while. Outside it was starting to get cold.

“You don’t mind trusting a stranger with your life?”

Maybe he was expecting a sharp reply or just silence. But the journey had promised to be long and somehow they had to fill in the time… learning how to know each other might have been one way to get through the day. Jyn shrugged her shoulders.

“I made it this far alone, somehow… even if you had bad intentions I can defend myself, don’t worry.”

Orson Krennic turned the key, smiling in doing so. The engine roared placidly in response, while the world around them started moving and the lights danced uncertain beyond the glasses. Jyn huddled up in her jacket even more, closing her eyes cradled by the wheels motion.

☆

They always had breakfasts together, at small bars on the road sides or at some service station, and the way Orson cut an omelet and lifts the fork to his mouth, never failed to charm her. It was not particularly elegant, didn’t show off who knows what sophisticated way to do it, yet he still managed to alternate a grace of his own to a relaxed tone of voice that could swing from serenity to reticence and finally to solemn seriousness, especially when the conversation became too tough to manage. There was nothing special in those fast meals, the bars eventually all looked alike, yet staring at his hands somehow comforted her. It made her feel part of something, involved in his life, even if it was just a tiny part of it. And with time, that feeling did nothing but grow, taking room in her heart just to remain there, still.

Orson laughed bowing his head down, barely narrowing his eyes, mouth open while the sound of his laugh spread through the air. Eyes squinted due to the strong sunlight, he forgot to wear his sunglasses and is looking for them inside the small compartment beneath the car stereo, inevitably mumbling. He opened the car door for her, smiling as if he was happy to have her with him, in his car, a travelling companion whose presence turned out to be more enjoyable than expected. Jyn had saved that smile for herself, keeping it close and at that time it was accompanying her, locked in that small place in her heart where she cherished all those laughter and breakfasts in the morning mist, when the diners are populated by early birds and the radio started to warm up with the first news of the day.

The girl slowly sipped her coffee, caressing the wooden table with her fingertips, while Orson was talking to her and contributed to shape her new world. They had been travelling together for a short time – only about ten days had passed since their meeting – and their conversations were still just beyond the beginning but they’d both have spent hours ever so slowly getting to know each other. Silence was there but they were not embarrassed. Drinking something helped them to harmonize their words in the best possible way… and when there was lack of glasses, the beauty of nature and the small distractions on their road would have taken care of it. A squirrel crossing their road, the rain violently starting to hit the windows, like a cascade of pebbles, or a sudden detour. Orson laughing, sighing, getting excited about those little instants. She hardly knew anything about him, yet it felt like she’d known him for a lifetime, as all his gestures were somehow familiar to her.

They ate lunch anywhere, on the road or straight on the grass, in the city parks they ended up moving through or in small stalls full of kids who just got out from school or tourists. She had learnt to know his love for gherkins, while he really can’t stand mayonnaise: the way his lips curved down when he realized the salesgirl had filled his sandwich with it, was stuck in her head. She bursted out laughing, bending her head backwards (the move in opposite directions, when laughing) unable to stop for a while, not even when she locked eyes with him, half upset and half resigned. She apologized coughing, saw him smiling despite everything and couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his eyes were when he did that.

They sat on a bench by the shore of a small lake, with other people’s lives flowing around them. Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere, or maybe the laugh following that sandwich mistake had helped to unite them, fact is that Orson had started talking about his life like it was nothing, almost as if they were a couple of friends who found themselves spending some moments together after a long time. He’d had a wife, but things didn’t work out well and after a while they both went on separate roads. There was no child, they neither had time nor the will to think about it and eventually it was never discussed. He hated all that solitude permeating his house after their separation, so he filled up his car, took his leather jacket that reminded him so much of the bike he used to ride in his youth, and left without so much as backward glance, looking for adventure. Jyn nodded and listened to him, then started to join the story, asking questions. So the day went by, leaving room for the afternoon, but they were still on that bench, chatting in the sunlight.

“My father’s always so busy with his job… he’s an engineer. He never had much time to spare for me, but every moment spent together was precious. Sometimes, when he left for days, leaving me and my mother alone, I pretended him to be an astronaut on his way to Mars, or an actor shooting a major film abroad. It really helped me to make myself less lonely, at least I was able to dream… and when he came back I could usually forgive him more easily. A child’s game. It wasn’t his fault, if he could he would have stayed years with me, still the six-years-old me wasn’t able to understand that.”

She shrugged, rolling the sleeves down to cover her fingers. Orson wore the same jacket, he just changed the shirt: a light grey polo shirt, little buttons open to meet the fresh air of the day.

“I didn’t get too angry about it when I was a kid, but during my teens the situation was intolerable. So I started to get my revenge on him, running away from home for days or ditching school. We argued all the time and I thought he deserved that, that I wasn’t caring about his life like he did about mine for years… I was selfish, but I also felt fully entitled to act like that. Until one day I decided to leave, since I preferred living on my own, getting lost on the road a million times instead of living under his roof just to feel guilty at first, then just resigned. Adventure was calling for me, I wanted to travel. So here I am.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to understand what our loved ones are doing for us, and in what measure they’re doing it for us.” Orson is staring straight ahead, like he’s speaking to himself rather than to her. “Especially during someone’s adolescence. You’re not the first to recall your mistakes, and you won’t be the last.” 

“It’s just that… I would have liked to figure this out sooner. Realize it when I slammed the door hoping he could at least sense a bit of my unease. Stop when I shouted all those “I hate you” full of anger from my room… nothing would have changed, but at least now I’d feel that I tried.”  
Jyn stretched her foot, kicking a leaf away hoping a bit of the melancholy slowly gripping on her stomach would have remained attached to it. Autumn is more of a state of mind than a real season, whoever told her that? She couldn’t remember. Thinking of her father has that effect on her, like fall was already there, sweeping away summer’s euphoria. Almost as if it had the power to bring back the angry teenager who only asked for her father to walk in her shoes.

“If you’re here to tell me these things, though, it means you’ve understood already.” Orson turned around. He looked kind to her, quiet, yet there was something wintry about him, maybe a pain he had folded and secluded away to turn it into something else, to erase it. At times like these keeping oneself concealed was not easy, and he was offering that part of his soul with a slanted smile, not even thinking of hiding it to make himself look any better. “Don’t you think so?”

She found it natural not to lower her gaze. What mattered, after all, if he was looking into her soul? If he possessed some of the answers she was looking for, he could simply go ahead: she had nothing to lose. Smiling, she kicked away another leaf.

“I hope you’re right. And I hope he’d figured out as well, that I was just a little girl asking for his attention.”

☆

For dinner they never had great plans. They moved around for days, stopping just a few minutes in the bars and diners on the road, sitting just long enough to eat a sandwich or a random dish, no matter what it was as long as it was edible. Music was playing loud through the speakers, the drivers came and went either with rain or nice weather, autumn was slowly coming forward and from the windows you could see the lights running back and forth like stars full of life, while Orson was hypnotizing her by moving a fork through his fingers.

One night, though, they had a change of plan. It was a fine evening, the air was beginning to get cooler and more vibrant, the same air that opened her lungs, making her breathe the smell of trees full of dry leaves, Jyn’s favorite atmosphere. Orson suggested to stop and eat in a small restaurant they stumbled on, and she gladly accepted, happy of being able to add a new experience to that adventure. The building was nice, there was also a small inner garden with trees and glass lanterns hanging from their branches, and little lights dancing around the candles and the wrought iron old-fashioned sign creaking in the wind. She put on her best clothes for that occasion, pulling out from the depths of her backpack an ultramarine blue blouse with barely ruffled sleeves and a clean pair of jeans, the ones she had dry-cleaned at the beginning of her journey, on a rainy afternoon when she ducked into a suburban laundromat with a magazine on her legs and a plastic cup full of coffee, while raindrops strongly tapped on the windows. It’s her favorite pair and they bring back lots of happy memories. She smiled at her shrank figure in the rearview mirror then walked behind Orson, who was wearing a pale blue shirt and dark jeans, walking with soft steps and his distracted elegance, drifting into the night. They took their seat in the garden, on a couple of white wooden chairs, simple and dainty, and ordered some food, peeping at a menu written on cardboards as white as the furniture around them. Sometimes, with due attention and narrowed eyes, someone could catch a glimpse of the season’s last fireflies flying through the tables to land on the branches. Orson was rolling the glass through his fingers and talked; he looked so relaxed and serene that it was making her happy as well. Who would have thought, looking at them from the outside, that they were neither lovers nor old friends, but just a couple of strangers who had decided to share a journey that otherwise would have been too lonely?

They ate and they talked. The past kept popping out of more than just one subject, but somehow melancholy had released its grip from Jyn’s heart, letting her breathe to enjoy a little peace and quiet. Perhaps it didn’t intend to come back for a while. She had no idea. What she knew by that time were her renewed laughs, more than she could have ever dreamt of, and that she had filled her glass of wine several times, with Orson making her laugh again. Then he paid her a compliment: _you have a precious smile_.

“You don’t show it often, but when you do it makes everyone forget what they’re doing and get lost in contemplating it, as if they’re getting any comfort from that smile alone.”

She bowed her head while thanking him, trying not to show her appreciation and the redness of her cheeks, even if it might just be due to the wine. They talked about Orson’s family, and for a while it seemed as his winter had abandoned him during that autumn night. _I haven’t heard from my wife ever since our separation, and perhaps that’s for the better_ , he said: sharing company with people we have no feelings for makes us wither and scar, every happy thought disappears and we become shadows of ourselves. She was living her life, he was travelling, the both found some sort of balance. I’d like to find out mine as well, Jyn answered, brushing a lock of hair from her ear.

“I started walking because it was the only thing I knew how to do well, I was hoping for a change, have been seeking it for a long time. Maybe I’ve gained nothing, but at least I’m not stuck where I was, I didn’t let myself get suffocated by the old me.”

Orson sipped some wine while listening to her, though he never answered: he did at a later time, in his own way, while Jyn had turned to look at the fireflies flying around the candles still lit, melting with their light, almost as if they were seeking for company in the dark. He dared, a leap of faith, a hand brushing against her hair, awkwardly yet gently, as if he’s trying to say he understands.

“Maybe you didn’t go far, but making it to this point it’s something already, don’t you agree?”

She didn’t move aside, a lock of hair covering part of her face, a smile widening behind that little curtain of brown hair, tasting his sentence. They stood up from the table after paying the bill and without any of them planning to do it, they ended up walking down the road, under the streetlights, with only a few cars passing by and without any precise destination. They just walked, hands nearly brushing against each other, surrounded by the very silence they’ve come to know travelling together.

They stopped next to a stairway: the scenery from up there is quite a view and, leaned against the railing, they can enjoy the breeze and the landscape waiting to recover from the drink and go looking for motel or a peaceful parking lot to stop and sleep. Since the first night they didn’t have any problem about it: the man slept on the front seat bent down, while he had arranged the back ones for the girl, so she could be more comfortable. He proved to be very kind, first offering her just a lift and then a place to rest, and she was really grateful about it. Whenever they stayed in a hotel overnight he always asked for two separate rooms in order not to embarrass her. Orson was always kind, never intrusive. Even when he looked for a more intimate contact by touching her hair. And so he stood beside her, breathing the night air and looking down to the city lights, so far they almost look like tiny dollhouses, lost in the surroundings.

Standing on the tip of her toes, without saying anything, she kissed him.

She still must have been tipsy, her blood filled with little bubbles and a strange elation, point was it seemed like the right thing to do and she did without much thought. Was it because of the wine? Or perhaps because she felt happy, too happy to just keep it to herself? She didn’t know. She just turned around towards him, pressed her lips on his vehemently, as if she was afraid of being rejected, or regretting that moment. And Orson, although he was caught off guard, accepted her with gentleness, holding her face in his hands almost as if he’s afraid of hurting her, yet returns the kiss, the taste of wine in their mouth, savoring what was left of it on Jyn’s lips. It lasted for a moment or a year, and when it’s over night is still there, the streetlight casting its light on them while the buildings shine in the dark, oblivious. The girl didn’t look down: she can see every star of the universe in his eyes. Looking at them so closely, she’d never thought it possible.

Before going back to the car he kissed her again, and this time Jyn knew exactly how to move.

☆

They _almost_ had sex for the first time at night, under the stars, a few days after that dinner in town. She remembered how she held on to Orson, like he was a life preserver in the midst of the worst storm ever, wrapped in his arms naked and vulnerable, ready to give him everything he would have wished for, every aspect of her being, even the most insignificant and awful parts… but he didn’t intend to take anything, greed wasn’t a part of his personality. He undressed her with the same kindness he used every morning to open the car door for her, paying attention not to press her too strongly beneath him while she started removing his clothes, starting from his t-shirt down to the zipper of his pants, and then touching his legs lightly, stopping with her fingertips on the fabric of his briefs, just a single act of hesitation. He smiled to reassure her, letting her go ahead, and Jyn kissed him again. Orson’s mouth was soft and wet, a small trace of unshaved beard itched her cheeks: he lets her handle it, relying on her hands until they were both naked and out of breath, plunged in the silence of the night. The cool air made her nipples hard and the man’s kisses made her shiver, his warm breath heating her up just so the breeze could make her quiver again. It was nice laying like that, embraced by a nude body that turned her on and made her feel alive, sighing and biting her lips right after for fear that someone could hear them.

It was months, maybe years she didn’t let herself go and putting herself in somebody’s hands like that was a long missed feeling.

They didn’t stop for a second, there was no time to think it through or to insert any kind of thought between the actions: their first sex was like a first kiss, sudden, impetuous. One minute Orson was caressing her nape, touching her lips with his tongue and inviting her to open her mouth, and the next she embraced him between her legs, sweaty hands clinging on his back, foolishly thinking about that perfume she didn’t put on or that pretty underwear she left in her bag, little attentions she always cared about when she hung out with her previous lovers… but it was just an instant, a thought lasting the blink of an eye. He accepted her immediately, they chose each other without even realizing it, and that moment was no more than the natural ending of what had started a long time before. Or maybe the beginning of something new.

“Please, be gentle” she whispered, maybe because she was afraid of letting herself go so much she would regret it the morning after. He showed a mischievous grin, like a naughty little boy, playing with the girl’s body to the point he had memorized every mole, every imperfection. Opening her legs, he inhaled the same cool air that was scratching her skin and stopped for a second to just look at her, small and warm, flush face and eyes full of each one of the stars above that spied on them. She was beautiful. He had to tell her, interrupt that awkward moment, and so he did.

“You’re gorgeous, Jyn. I haven’t said that enough during my life, perhaps I don’t even know how to express myself without sounding like a bestower of pathetic mushiness, but you really are. And I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“You won’t.” She was short of breath, but she would cut her own arm off to show how much she was getting lost inside him. “You’re here, we’re together. There’s nothing for you to ruin.”

He smiled at her one more time. How could she have woken up every morning for days, months, years, without looking at him folding his lips like that?

He plunged his mouth between her legs and Jyn could swore he was laughing while kissing her sex, caressing with his fingers and then using the tongue, taking all the timed he needed to explore her and make her shiver. Was that the moment she clenched her fists, arching her back with her eyes still closed? Probably. It had been ages since someone took care of her that way, she wanted to keep that memory for long, hold her breath and get flooded by the touch of his mouth and fingers. She moaned softly, enjoying that sensation, her legs stretched and then relaxed, her breathe hastening with every movement of his tongue, his perfect mouth that could kiss and smile and turn her on like that. It was almost illegal. She would have screamed, if she could, but the thought of someone walking around there was far too realistic to just ignore it and go the whole hog. She just wanted to let go. Even so…

A sudden noise behind their back had startled them. Orson looked up and turned around, a quizzical expression on his face. Jyn’s mind was still hazy because of that missed orgasm, but she had enough presence to stand up and fumble around for her blouse to cover herself at least in part, while the man was looking around them with concern. Someone was probably walking down the road to camp in that area, or maybe a driver got off his car and headed to a place where vegetation was less dense for whatever reason only he – or she – knew. They couldn’t stay there anyway, chances were someone could see them in such a state: they both looked swiftly for their clothes without paying much attention to how they were putting them on, and ran to the car. Once they sat down, messy hair, still sweaty and shaky for the intensity of what they had almost experienced, they looked at each other, bursting our laughing and unable to stop. Everything was so wonderful and ridiculous, sneaking inside the car to hide like a pair of teenagers dealing with their first love, they couldn’t help but laugh. Orson’s eyes were sparkling, once more.

Soon after they were back on the road as always, listening to some music and exchanging a few sentences every time the name of a new town appeared in the form of a road sign. If Jyn ever thought that embarrassing interruption had built a wall between them, the thunderous laugh from right before cleared up any doubt, leaving behind a little light of hope. They kept driving to reach the first available hotel and, for the first time, they asked for a double room. It was a sudden decision, a quick exchanged glance and a walk upstairs with a key card clutched in his hand, fingers touching once more, this time with more confidence. The room was small yet cozy, with a window opened on a small sill, a double bed and walls permeated with a clean aroma: no one could bother them. Almost all the other rooms were empty, a moonbeam entered from the lowered shutters, silence covered everything, only interrupted by the sound of some lonely car going by in the distance. Jyn kissed him deeply, for a long time, a new and conscious kiss.

They had all the time in the world, or at least a whole night before sunrise: there was no need to hurry. Orson undressed her again, slowly, paying proper attention to every inch of the skin he already tried to get to know a few hours before. Jyn was more impulsive, until the man’s hands barely tried to stop her, trying to set a slower rhythm, more similar to his: after all, he liked being in charge of the situation. He went on with his slow dance, one garment at a time, disrobing her and looking at her like he had never seen her naked before, drenched in the moonlight and smiling, a small malicious smile which made her adorable. Wide eyes, full lips, soft breasts, nipples of a tender shade of pink and the light reaching even lower, between her legs, a hint of soft hair on her sex, the harmonious line of her thighs, of her ankles. Down to her small feet, to her nails polished in red, an unexpected touch of vanity. He would love to kiss her for hours and devour her at the same time, making love to her until morning comes, until every thought is silenced, erase everything that wasn’t the pleasure of holding her in his arms and feel alive, she could read it in his eyes: he kept them locked with hers, reaching out to caress her lips, searching for words that didn’t seem to come out.

They were both undressed and unashamed. That place and moment felt like home.

“Let’s do it” Jyn whispered, a prayer disguised as an order. He let her hand gently slip between her pale thighs, without looking at him, then she reached Orson’s hand to make him touch her in the same spot: she was already wet. Oral sex wouldn’t have been necessary in that case… but there was no way she’d refuse another round like the one from hours before.

“Your wish is my command, my lady” he giggled, charming. And after kissing her lips he put a hand between her legs, making some room for him and stealing a sigh from her. Jyn closed her eyes, sighing again and welcomed him without holding back any single moan. Not even when she screamed, pleasure exploding and invading her like a swollen river, carrying her off from the known shores, an orgasm Orson tried to soothe by closing her lips in a kiss, but now was her time to devour him.

“We’re full of resources tonight, aren’t we?” Another kiss, full of passion, lips bitten and red. Jyn laughed an answer out. “I thought you liked my methods.” 

“I never said I don’t.”

She pushed him below her with flushed cheeks and the wild delight of a predator: he was laying down with arms open, short breathed as she was, and smiles to encourage her to go ahead. She slowly took hold of his hips, moving leisurely back and forth, with the same hypnotic slowness he used to give her pleasure, and he was looking at her with narrowed eyes, lost in that moment. Orson caressed her thighs and bottom, making her feel splendid and strong and full of power over him, so glorious, so happy she could cry her eyes out and laugh ‘til daybreak. A second, more calm and controlled orgasm followed the first one: the warm waters of the river had brought her back and embraced her, like a cradle.

They actually made love over and over, until they were so tired they slipped inside the blankets still naked and warm, and morning light found them in no different position. Numb, smiling, a tangle of arms and legs embracing each other, of pillows out of place and clothes scattered all over the room: a happy chaos. Jyn got up and, in the dim light, slightly put the shutters up to look at the scenery she didn’t have time to observe the night before. The street was clear, a couple of trees moved their leaves almost in a cheerful way, sometimes a bird interrupted that still view landing on a branch and started singing. That was just an ordinary provincial hotel, a quite impersonal building in a nearly empty street of a city they didn’t even know. They couldn’t ask for a better start.

She didn’t know he’d woken up until Orson wrapped his arms around her waist, embracing her to say his personal good morning. It was amazing how their skin could merge them into a single being, how the inside of his elbows perfectly overlapped her hips to hold her on without letting go, memorizing their shape. She let him hold her without saying anything, head pressed under his chin, while morning kept getting brighter and the world was starting to wake up.

☆

Sometimes she wondered if the adolescent she was would have ever imagined a such a twist in her life.

She woke up every morning with the top of a car over her head, sometimes it was a ceiling from a hotel room, and those were the only walls she could tolerate around her. She brought her life savings with her, giving up on every luxury until the life she really wanted was going to be in front of her eyes: it wasn’t easy, but with time she realized such lifestyle actually suited her. She had no rule, if not the one of always listening to herself and learn as much as she could from what she saw and heard. Not locking up her feelings inside a plastic bubble to drive them away. Erasing every regret, burying them, sending them away with a swipe of her hand and letting them go. They weren’t her business anymore and holding onto them would’ve only made her suffer more. Opening to her new life little by little, to the winter reaching out its arms, wearing a livery made of weightless mist and lonely snowflakes like butterflies out of season. To Orson, and what his company had to offer her.

They made love another time after their night at the hotel, and then another, and then so many others. Every night his body conveyed something different, holding her in a different way, as if he was learning a language and improving it again and again. One night in his car, finally alone at the edge of the woods, with the girl’s nails carving small half moons on his shoulders. Another night in a hotel near the lakes, in a room that smelled like fresh wood and tartan wool blankets, after reading for hours and alternating a book with lazy, slow kisses. He let Jyn be on top: he had a hard time admitting it, but he liked losing himself in her while looking at her breasts moving, tiny pink nipples synchronized with her moaning. And that time on the beach, on a late fall evening so mild they dared to watch the sunset sitting on the hood of his car, wearing just a light wool shirt, that was casually dropped on the ground shortly after, with the rest of their clothes. Of course they’d caught a cold, but did it really matter?

She felt different beside him, a Jyn unknown to her that she was starting to love. It was thanks to him, denying it would have been silly: it was like a new energy was pervading her, allowing her to venture new projects. Who would have thought it would have been all because of a stranger she ran into, a man who dared talking to her to comment on the breaking up of a band that touched both of their lives? But that’s the way it turned out and no matter out strange it sounded, it was amazing. A book you wouldn’t find very interesting, that ends up getting you from cover to cover because, perhaps, you can sympathize with it.

At night she loved looking at the sky, nose in the air and losing herself among the stars, turning off every other thought. _Ask the stars_ , her mother used to say, _they have a solution for everything. They’ve been watching you since you were born, following your mistakes and victories, so old they remember everything and from their distance they’ve learned to be impartial_. She doesn’t have Lyra Erso’s imagination, but she liked to think that somewhere up in that sky there was a tiny, crooked start with her name on it and every memory carved on the inside. A walking star. Maybe the same one that allowed her to not be alone anymore.

“You know, we could buy a house of our own” Orson dared one night they decided to sleep in the car, always near the lakes, always in each other’s arms in the space they had arranged by getting the seats down. “A small house, maybe with a stall next to it. We can live renting bicycles and canoes to cross the lake, without worries or unnecessary objects. Cheaply dressed, two laptops… and a coffe machine for our breakfasts. We could be happy.”

“Just like an old married couple” she teased him, brushing her head under his jaw to annoy him a bit. “Wouldn’t it bring back bad memories? Of your wedding, I mean.”

“No. I put it all behind myself… and if they ever come back, I would only need to think that I’m moving forward, and that if I ever let them haunt me I wouldn’t be here.” He caressed her hair, slowly, in that way she learned to love with time. The moon was trapped inside the tree branches, up above, the stars were only partially visible: it had been a cloudy and quiet day, rainless and barely cold, the perfect calling card for a winter on its way. It was nice, lay under the wool blankets Orson used to keep in his car, holding and warming each other up even if the day hadn’t been particularly cold: it made her feel safe, like the time of feeling part of something bigger, more important had finally arrived.

Was that the reason she decided to stay? For Orson, for his laugh, for the way he held his fork and laughed at her jokes, for the hoarse, low groans he gifted her with during sex? Or maybe because, after years of solitude and slammed doors, she needed to take a deep breath and think about her future without feeling so helpless?

She slipped deeper into his arms, closing her eyes, and for a moment she swore she could hear her father’s voice trying to make peace with her from the other side of the door, a veil of sadness clouding his voice like every time they ever argued and Galen Erso tried to make up with her daughter. She opened them again, but this time Orson’s voice greeted her, telling her something gentle confused, cradling her to sleep.

☆

It was a slow, cautious decision: such choices can’t be taken lightly, without asking ourselves what is there to lose or gain. They’ve been travelling together and sharing their lives for months now, so Orson’s idea is starting to feel more and more reasonable.

They stopped in one of those woods they loved so much, sitting to watch the sunset among the trees. Orson had a camera and used it to take pictures – one of the many hobbies he carried around since his adolescence – while Jyn was simply walking, looking at the abstracted squares of light drawn by the setting sun on the ground. She thought about her childhood, about the trees growing in front of her home she climbed so many times, when mom was still alive and listening to her laugh was her greatest joy. They were still there, those trees, in that corner of her garden, watching over the green metal table and the chairs she sat on over many summers, sipping lemonades and doing homework. Who knew if her father ever looked at them, if he thought about those time and about Jyn. She heard from him just once, before the beginning of her travel, and he sounded as busy as always, kind but too busy with his job to stop for a second and pick up the confidences of a daughter he never really knew well. Maybe that was just the nature of their relationship, that kind based on a painless distance, chosen by both of them. They've almost never heard from each other, and when they do there was never much to talk about, even so the old grudges are slowly healing away, turning to memories. She just felt melancholic, he loved her in his own way.

She wore a piece of cloth that belonged to her mother, white and paisley, folded as a bandana on her hair kissed by the sunlight: wearing it along with a loose cotton shirt recently bought at a flea market along the road, she looked like a hippie straight from the sixties. She spun around and the long hems of fabric followed her like the tail of a comet, lightweight. On the corner of her eye she could see Orson tinkering with his camera, the sun setting behind his back and an infinite series of words stuck in that moment, ending when he shows her his last picture: she looked like a happy little girl, with that frank smile of who’s being caught in a onetime moment.

“This is for our living room. We need to find a proper frame for it.”

Orson looked at her seriously, and she couldn’t help but laugh. A thousand times she would have said yes, with words or kisses, facing any adventure with him, losing her way just to find herself again and again. She hugged him, letting him kiss her.

Everything was so simple, and even if there might have been bad times ahead, although the future hid its thorns behind the petals of an alluring flower, with him she knew where she belonged. Whether it was a car, or a motel among the stars, or a house of their own.

“I want a good looking one, though.” Jyn interrupted their kiss to show him yet another insolent smile. “Made of wood, carved wood. With little trees… that’s not a bad idea, what do you think? Yeah, I think it would suit the surroundings.”

Orson laughed bowing his head down, like he always did.

“Let’s go with some little trees, then. One way or another, I can’t say no to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Writer~ NatMatryoshka's Notes:**   
>  _33\. "A Jynnic road trip AU based on that pic of Ben Mendelsohn in the car. Maybe Jyn picks Krennic up. Maybe he picks her up. They drive and talk and discover each other. And maybe there’s sexing on the hood, sexing by the side of the road, sexing under the stars. Maybe."_
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> That was the prompt I chose: I wanted to write something about a Jyn travelling by herself, meeting a lonely Krennic (a traveler as well) in an old bar on a dusty road. I had that picture in my mind, and when I saw the prompt... I couldn't resist. I really enjoyed myself describing their relationship built in a slow way, at first with simple chats, then kisses, sex and maybe a new life together. The same way I tried to outline Jyn's relationship with Galen in an AU context: they love each other, but somehow he's always too busy to be on her daughter's side. Maybe their relationship works this way, in my imagination.
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> I REALLY have to thank the Jynnic fam for this wonderful initiative, for their the hard work and the prompts, that were all amazing. You've welcomed me warmly, making this experience more and more enjoyable. I really hope I've matched the expectations of the prompt's author and I REALLY REALLY have to thank my bae for her work. English is not our mother tongue, but she made my story look special with her translation. And she's so humble and nice and precious I couldn't take any step without her love and help.
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> Thanks to you too, dear reader! I hope you appreciate my small contribution to the fandom!
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> **Translator ~ Ailisea's Notes:**  
>  If you’re reading this, I’M SO SORRY. I mean it. Seriously, English isn’t my native language and Italian is so different from it, so I’m sure there are lots of mistakes and typos and wrong tenses and other things I can’t think of at the moment, but I REALLY did my best to translate this awesome story, which I promise you is _waaay_ better in Italian. There’s always a loss of some sort when translating a text from a language to another, let’s add the fact that I don’t have a native English beta-tester… _ugh_. Anyway, I hope I didn’t make any horrible mistake choosing the vocabulary and such, if I did, please let me or _NatMatryoshka_ know about it, so we can correct it. Thanks to all of you if you read the story and if you were brave enough to read our notes so far. Being part of this Jynnic challenge was thrilling and I really hope there will be another one in the future, so that maybe I can join as writer/illustrator rather than a translator. I’m always happy to help my bae out but I’d also really like to challenge myself and be a part of this family. See you next time~
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> EDIT: I created a small aesthetic for Jynnic Week, a sort of "part 2" for my story! You can find it there ->http://lion-hearted-wolf.tumblr.com/post/156588139077/


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